Reasons To Piss off your Team Mate
by Random Inspired
Summary: Grif has an experiment going, and so far it's looking pretty good, results wise.


Grif was doing target practise when it happens.

Yeah, target practise. As in he was practising. As in working.

Weird, he knows.

But Grif had been antsy as hell as of late and shooting a gun obliterated most feelings other than a strange euphoric thrill with the coil-back slams into your shoulder. So Grif embraced it, pretended it wasn't working, and continues shooting up the base wall like it's his job.

Well no like it's the opposite of his job, which he is avoiding at all costs.

And really, he isn't straining himself too hard because he's also dragged the beat up couch in the common room a little to the left so that he could lay across the lovely cushy space while firing shot after shot and doing his best to remove the horrible mint green wallpaper Donut had insisted on putting up on one of his days off.

He also wasn't wearing pants.

So when Simmons stormed in, ready to rage and yell about the noise and absolutely useless waste of ammo he was instead shocked into silence.

Grif looked up and waved is gun in an almost threatening way, "What's up, Simmons? Is there a problem?"

Grif could see his friends adams apple bob as he swallowed hard and had to fight back a smirk. His theory was pretty much proved at this point. It had been looking good over the last few weeks, and Grif had quite a large amount of evidence for his case piled up, but this, Simmons beet red and gulping, unable to tear his eyes away from Grifs naked legs, yeah. That pretty much sealed the deal.

And the deal was, of course, that Simmons had a huge gay boner for him and wanted to nail him against every available surface.

He watched as Simmons steeled himself, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest a little, "Yes, Grif, there is! You can't just… fire.. your…"

He trailed off as his eyes followed Grifs hand, which trailed slowly up and down his thigh. Grif knew his audience, "Sorry, what can't I fire?"

His voice snapped Simmons out of it. With a violent lurch that seemed almost painful Simmons finished his sentence, "Your gun! You can't just go around shooting your gun at the wall! What if Sarge thought we were being attacked?"

"I'd tell him we weren't."

"Oh shut up Grif, I've had it up to here with you this week! You've been worse than usual, you know! Listening to your horrible new age waterfall music-"

"-It helps me sleep-!"

"-At full volume?! How does that help you sleep! How does that help _anyone_ sleep! And then you went and ate all the desserts we had for the entire month-"

"-I was hungry-"

"-In the space of ten minutes because you were having a speed eating contest,_ with yourself_! And now this! Wasting our valuable ammo- something that could save our lives against the blues, I might add- while lying on the couch and getting your sweat all over it!"

Grif sighed and rolled his head back onto the armrest with a groan, showing off his sharp jaw and long neck, both of which he'd seen Simmons looking at before, "I can't help it, I'm bored. More bored than usual! Maybe if there was some way to get off other than my own hand in the godforsaken canyon-"

Simmons spluttered and turned and even darker shade of red, "I-That's what this is about? You want to have sex with some girl?"

Grif flopped his head over, hair falling in his face a little, he pouted and shrugged, "Sort of… Sex with whoever really."

That was a lie. It was Simmons. Simmons was who he wanted so badly to have sex with. It wasn't a one-sided thing in the slightest, it was just a careful dance to attract the wary mate. Like some sort of bird or something.

Man Grif should sell the rights to his life to an animal channel. It would make a pretty interesting special. He took down that chocolate cake yesterday like some sort of large cat alright.

"Well why don't you just go ask Donut then and stop bothering me! It's obvious he's interested!"

Well that was like being smacked in the ass with a cold, wet towel.

"What?"

"Donut! He'd sleep with you no issue! Or have you missed the looks he's been giving you?" Simmons turned away, giving Grif a fantastic view of his butt in perfectly ironed and creased regulation cotton pants. But Grif wasn't looking at that, he was quickly standing as Simmons moved to walk out the door.

Moving faster than probably ever, he grabbed Simmons arm and whirled him around quickly, "Why would I want to sleep with _Donut_?"

"Because you obviously don't care where you're sticking your dick, as long as it's warm and willing!"

Grif started and slammed a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge building in his gut to laugh. He ultimately failed and gales of laughter rang out like waves. Simmons looked, quite frankly, unimpressed.

"What. Why are you laughing."

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend on some sort of soap opera, Simmons." Grif managed to calm his laughter down a little and reached out, squeezing his shoulder, "Do we have to worry about copyright infringement? Because I don't know about you, but I don't make that kind of money."

"Fuck off, Grif."

And that's when it went down. That was the moment when Grif just through away his weird convoluted plan and his deal with animal planet and just went for it, pressing a soft slow kiss to Simmons lips before pulling away, "Yeah, I'm _so_ not sleeping with Donut."


End file.
